


Wine, Brandy and (Craft) Beer

by Vamillepudding



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hair Braiding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22241803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vamillepudding/pseuds/Vamillepudding
Summary: It's a year before Rey finds out that Ben is not, in fact, an orphan. It's another year before Ben gives in to his parents' standing Thanksgiving invitation.They've only been in Ben's childhood home for an hour when Rey realises that this is going to be a disaster.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 28
Kudos: 327





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have returned with another story ! A huge thanks as always to [Cynassa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynassa) and [captain_matkaara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_maatkara) who I feel both told me to go to hell repeatedly while I kept annoying them with just about every single word I newly added, but who were of huge help anyway.

For the fourth time that evening, Ben clears his throat as if about to say something, before visibly changing his mind. Perhaps he’s getting a chest infection. Perhaps he’s about to confess that he quit his job and gambled all his money away in a risky game of Go Fish.

Perhaps he’s breaking up with her, but Rey doesn’t think so. Not just because they’re in love, although they are, or because they’ve been together for two years and it’s going better than ever, although they have and it is, but also because if Ben were to ever break up with her, she’s convinced it would be different from whatever this is. He’d be too scared to do it to her face, for once. He’d do it per text. Or send a handwritten letter. With a pigeon.

For now, Rey ignores this, just as she has ignored it the other three times, puts her feet in his lap from where they’re spread out on the sofa, and changes the channel.

“I was watching that,” Ben protests.

“What _were_ we watching?”

That makes him pause. “A show. A movie? A show. And there were…people. And dancing. A musical.”

“You’re thinking of Glee,” Rey says, “which I was watching three hours ago when you came home. Just now we were watching a documentary on killer whales. Or I was. I don’t know what you were doing.”

She waits for him to say something else, maybe defend himself, but he doesn’t. Alright then. Rey goes through the channels until she finds a rerun of Full House and decides that Ben will talk to her when he’s ready. He gets like this, sometimes, lost in his own thoughts while silently working through whatever is bothering him. Rey sympathises, because she knows she’s the same. They’ve both gotten better at it over the years, but she thinks probably they’ll never be poster children for communication.

Ben clears his throat again. Don’t ask, Rey tells herself. He’ll say it when he’s ready. Don’t ask.

“I’m wondering,” he starts, pauses, and finishes with, “if you would like to go to bed.”

Alright, that’s _it_. “Not before you tell me what’s on your mind,” Rey says.

“I have nothing on my mind,” Ben says, like he doesn’t have at least 83 parallel thought processes running through his head at any given moment, most of them a thorough distaste for people, some of them which new recipes to try out. Ben loves a good gluten free meal.

Rey just looks at him. Eventually, Ben says, slowly, grinding his jaw like he’s actually being tortured right now, “I was summoned home for Thanksgiving. And you’re invited, too.”

***

This might not be a bombshell announcement for most relationships. Then again, most relationships don’t have one partner literally freezing up and changing the subject whenever the F word (family) comes up. In the first year, Rey hadn’t even known Ben _had_ a family – not until the Christmas cards arrived. Ben had been outraged that his parents had figured out his address, Rey had been outraged that Ben’s parents weren’t dead.

“Why would you assume they were dead?” Ben had asked in between burning the cards with a lighter.

“Because you _told_ me they were dead,” Rey had said. “That was literally one of the first things you said to me. You practically introduced yourself _, What’s up I’m Ben and my parents died in a tragic accident_.” Judging from the icy look Ben gave her, she’d done a pretty good job at imitating the way he talked – even if it wasn’t how he’d introduced herself, and even though he’d probably never said the words _What’s up_ in his entire life. “You said they’re not around anymore!”

“They live in a different city.”

“And when Poe had to go to his dad’s funeral last year you told him you knew how he felt! Who _does_ that?”

“I told him I _sympathise_ ,” Ben said. “That’s not the same thing”

“Also you have this weird orphan thing!” Rey’d said, making vague hand gestures. “You told me your favourite fictional character is Oliver Twist! And you love Jane Eyre! Oh my _god_ , is that why you’re dating me? Because of your orphan thing?”

“I,” Ben had said haughtily, “do not have an orphan thing. I do have parents. Do you have another lighter? This one went out.” And then he had put the last bits of the Christmas cards in the mixer.

That had been that.

Rey can’t even begin to imagine what kind of guilt tripping must have taken place over the phone for Ben to actually agree to come to _Thanksgiving_.

***

Ben tells her she doesn’t have to come. Ben makes a list of reasons why it would be better for her if she stays at home. In alphabetical order. When that doesn’t work, Ben actually calls Finn and asks if he can ‘take Rey over the holidays’ like she’s a cat, or a particularly fussy ficus.

They’re in the kitchen preparing dinner (or rather, Ben is preparing a superfood salad and Rey is sitting cross-legged on the counter drinking beer) when Rey brings it up again.

“You know,” she says, and Ben looks up from where he’s currently cutting carrots, “you don’t have to bring me if you don’t want to. I don’t mind.” She hates how fragile her voice sounds, because she does mean what she said. She’s never had to go through the whole Bringing Your Boyfriend Home routine, so the whole thing is somewhat mystifying to her, but listening to friends and watching tv, she’s come to realise that this is like, a whole thing.

Ben doesn’t reply immediately, so she quickly adds, “I’d probably be bad at it anyway. I’ve never met someone’s parents before. I wouldn’t know how to act. Probably I’d just embarrass you.”

“It’s not that,” Ben says immediately. He adds the carrots to the salad bowl and wipes his hands on the stupid apron Rey gave him as a birthday gift last year (it says _Young, Dumb and Dumb_ ) before coming over to where she’s sitting. Ben carefully extricates the beer from her fingers and sets it aside, cupping her face in his hands and just…looking at her for a moment. He does that sometimes. It never fails to make Rey blush. “Rey, it’s not you,” he says eventually. “I would take you anywhere.”

“What is it about then?”

“My family. And-“ he hesitates a little. “Me. I don’t like who I am when I’m with them. You don’t know how we can get, there’s always drama, and fighting, and door slamming. They are all so stubborn, and absolutely unbearable when they don’t get their way.”

“Well,” Rey says, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, “I think I can probably handle that. I have some experience with stubborn people who are unbearable when they don’t get their way. A whole lot of experience, even. Enough to put it on my resume. For future references, please ask Ben Solo for-“ Ben kisses the rest of the sentence from her lips.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he mutters. Which is ridiculous, frankly. Rey doesn’t plan to say anything for the next while.

***

Rey is driving, because Ben failed his driver’s licence test three times in a row. Her car is small and old and doesn’t drive very fast and keeps literally falling apart; without her engineering degree, she’d be entirely lost.

Ben frequently calls her car a death trap. Rey frequently tells him that he can talk once he learns how to drive without knocking over lampposts.

“Tell me about them,” she says as she drives onto the motorway. Ben holds out a plastic container full of celery sticks out to her; Rey shakes her head.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Ben says. In the past two years, Rey has heard this sentence multiple times, most notably when he returned home with a black eye. There isn’t much to tell usually means, _There is a lot to tell but I don’t want you to know_.

“Try me. Don’t you think it’s weird that we’re on our way to visit them for Thanksgiving and I literally know _nothing_ about them? Come on. Anything. What do your parents do for a living? What are they like?”

Ben looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. “My mother is in politics. My father is a pilot. They were separated three times now, I’m not sure what the current situation is.”

Rey waits. “And?” she prompts when nothing more seems to be forthcoming.

“And what?”

“Anything weird I should know about? Any relatives that died recently and left you a creepy house with too many hallways? Any old family tale that's going to turn out to be true? Any weird aunt that will keep asking me if I'm pregnant?”

“No,” Ben says, which probably means _Yes_.

Rey sighs, and lets him feed her a celery stick after all.

***

They arrive just as the sun starts to set. Ben directs her down a series of wide lanes and finally tells her to stop in front of a house that’s just – pretty normal, actually. A typical house in a typical suburban neighbourhood, with a front yard that needs to be mowed more often, and one car already in the driveway.

Rey, who’s been expecting at least a gothic castle, can’t help but be a disappointed at this shocking display of normality.

She finds a parking spot down the road and they walk to the house together, unable to hold hands because of the bags they’re carrying.

Rey wouldn’t usually mind – holding Ben’s hand is always nicer than not holding it, but it’s not like she can’t walk without it – but right now, she gets the distinct impression that _Ben_ minds. He’s not looking at her, instead throwing glances at the house every so often, his step slowing down like he physically cannot convince himself to walk faster to his doom.

Rey bumps her shoulder into his (or, to be more precise, she bumps her shoulder into his arm because he’s so fucking tall) in a spontaneous attempt to lighten the mood. Ben startles badly and almost drops the bag he’s holding.

“You don’t have to look like you’re going to a funeral,” Rey says lightly.

“It feels like it.”

“We’ll be out of here in two days, alright? That’s nothing. That’s less time than our camping trip last summer. Ben. Look at me.” He does, his expression indecipherable. Before Rey can flip through her mental dictionary of Ben Solo Facial Expressions and try and identify the right one, however, the front door swings open and a woman in her early 50s steps out onto the porch.

They are still a few feet away from the house, and Rey’s first instinct would be to walk forward, but Ben is frozen on the spot. The woman doesn’t wait; she crosses the distance between them and wraps Ben in a tight embrace that Ben only slowly returns.

Rey stands awkwardly by the side, unsure of what the protocol is here, until Ben finally clears his throat. The woman steps back, and Ben says, “Rey, this is my mother. Mum, this is Rey.”

Rey holds out her hand, only to be enveloped in a hug as well, albeit a much shorter one. “Call me Leia,” says Ben’s mum.

They all go inside. Rey tries to walk a few steps behind them, wanting to give mother and son some space, but Ben seems glued to her side, so Leia is the first one to go in, Rey and Ben following suit.

“The bedrooms are upstairs,” Leia is saying, presumably for Rey’s benefit. “Ben can give you a tour later, if you like. For now you can just get settled and- Ben?”

Ben has stopped in the hallway, eyes seemingly fixed on the wall. Now that his mother has said his name, he shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Let’s go upstairs.”

They drop their bags in what Leia proclaims Ben’s old bedroom before she goes back downstairs to let them unpack, which gives Rey ample opportunity to take a closer look at her surroundings.

The queen-sized bed with the crisp white sheets is of as little surprise as the clean desk is. Rey suspects that part of the reason why the desk is so ordered is not because Ben must have moved out over a decade ago, but because he is physically incapable of making a mess.

What _is_ a surprise is the sports gear she finds in one corner. “You played hockey?”

“Ice hockey. I also tried rugby and football.”

“Not lacrosse?” Rey teases, because it will never not be funny to her how American Ben is.

“Broke my arm on my first day,” Ben says so seriously that Rey just has to kiss him.

He smiles into her lips when she pulls him down on the bed, the first time he’s smiled since they’ve crossed the state border.

She’s just moved to straddle his lap when she spots something in the corner of her eye. She pulls back and ignores Ben’s protest, pointing at the poster above the bed that didn’t register before. “Rey,” Ben mutters and kisses that spot on her neck that always makes her knees go weak. But she won’t be distracted right now.

“Is that,” she says, gleefully, “a My Chemical Romance poster?”

Ben groans and falls back onto the covers. “Shut up.”

“It is, isn’t it? What other bands were you really into? Was it Coldplay? I bet it was Coldplay.”

“No, seriously, shut up.”

“Hey, Ben?” Rey says, lying back down next to him again. Ben scowls. Rey scoops closer so that her lips hover above his earlobe as she whispers, “What’s the worst that I can say, things are better if I _stay_ , oh my god get _off_ me.” He’s moved before she could finish the refrain, pinning her wrists above her head, trapping her beneath him.

“Mm, I don’t think so,” he says, still towering over her. Rey has stopped laughing. She swallows, shifting a little, trying to arch into his touch. Ben doesn’t let her. She knows he would let her go in a heartbeat if she said the word, but right now, she wants to be kept.

His dark eyes study her for a moment, determining if this is okay, if they’re on the same page.

They are.

He smirks. “Don’t move,” he says.

Rey tries her best but, by the time that her hands find their way into his hair, both of them are too far gone to mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben does start to give her a house tour after they’ve both showered. They get as far as the kitchen, which is when Leia enters. Previously dressed in what was clearly a stay-at-home outfit, she’s now wearing a smart suit, a coat thrown over her arm.

While Rey needs a second to understand what’s happening, Ben’s face closes off immediately.

“Something came up,” Leia says.

“It always does,” Ben says. Leia sighs and reaches out for him, stilling in the motion when he flinches back.

“I won’t be long. There should be food in the fridge, and Han is coming home soon, and-“ She trails off, sighs again. “I won’t be long,” she repeats.

The sound of the door shutting feels like the end of something. It certainly is the end of the tour; Ben’s mood, which had been drastically improved only ten minutes ago, has already piled into a dark cloud that hovers in the kitchen now, about to start raining. Good thing Rey has always liked rain.

“Come on,” she says, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Ben’s cheek. “Let’s make dinner.”

“There won’t be food.”

“But she said-“

“My mother,” Ben says, “has never cooked a meal in her life. Neither has my dad. They live on takeout and energy bars.” He sounds disgusted, which is at least an improvement. Disgust is better than that blank look he just had.

Rey checks the fridge anyway. There’s a strawberry yoghurt, an empty juice box, and something rotten in it that might have been fruit a decade ago.

“Told you.”

“So we’ll go to the store. We can buy as many vegetables as you like. We could even buy quinoa.”

Ben, because he acts mysterious but is really incredibly predictable, visibly perks up.

“And that gluten-free bread that you like,” Rey wheedles.

“I suppose one short trip wouldn’t hurt.”

***

They’re on their way to the checkout when it happens. Rey is pushing the cart because she’s always pushing the cart. It gives her this weird sensation of safety that makes no sense except for when it makes all the sense, stemmed from a childhood of going to bed hungry and never, _never_ being able to just pick food that she likes.

Ben disappears down an aisle without warning. Rey stares after him but doesn’t follow, certain he’ll be back in a minute with soybeans or something. In fact – while he’s _not_ here…

Looking in both directions to make sure there’s no one to tell her off, Rey pushes the cart a little faster, and then climbs on the back of it, something else she never got to do as a kid. She’s almost at the register and ready to jump off and slow down when suddenly, someone comes out of one of the aisles and straight-up collides with her cart.

The cart flips over and Rey falls to the ground, where she decides she might as well stay here, ready for a hole to open up beneath her any moment now.

A groan of pain (not from her), someone asking if she’s okay, and then the sound of someone running and coming to an abrupt stop before her.

“What happened?” Ben demands. “Are you hurt?” He drops to his knees and starts patting her up and down like there might be any hidden stab wounds that he’s about to uncover.

“I’m fine,” Rey says, which doesn’t stop Ben from looking at her like she’s dying. He stands and helps her up; she lets him because he looks like he needs it.

Someone clears their throat. “I’m fine, too, thank you for your conc- _Ren_?”

Ben freezes. Rey looks over and discovers that the guy she ran over is pale, ginger, and very confused. Oh God, hopefully he doesn’t have a concussion; Rey really can’t afford to be sued.

“Hux,” Ben says.

A second passes. “Rey,” Rey says, pointing at herself. Both Ben and Hux turn towards her; Rey shrugs and says, “It seemed like we were all just saying names.”

“Is that your _girlfriend_?” Hux asks, nose wrinkled. “Bit pretty for you, don’t you think? What’s wrong with you?” The last part of that sentence is directed at her. “Any STDs? Spent a few months in jail, perhaps? Or-“ Hux brightens. “Is he _paying_ you?”

Rey doesn’t even realise she’s moved until strong arms are holding her back. “Let me go,” she says, trying to struggle out of his grip to get to Hux, who appears to be cleaning his fingernails. “I said, let me _go_.”

“Have you calmed down? I’m not letting you go until you’ve calmed down.”

Hux is watching this scene with great interest. He’d picked up a packet of Brussel sprouts that had fallen to the floor in the crash; now he tosses it aside and says, “Where’d you find her? The kennel? Got yourself a mutt?”

Finally, Ben releases her.

And punches Hux.

“What is wrong with you,” Rey exclaims, “you can’t just _punch_ people.”

Ben shakes out his hand and says, “You were going to punch him.”

Rey opens her mouth, realises that she’s about to say _But it’s different when I do it_ , and closes it. They both look at Hux. The area around his left eye is reddish and a little puffy; in a few hours it’s going to form into an impressive shiner.

“That’s two assaults,” he says. “You’ll regret that. I hope having your Nicolas Cage moment was worth it.” He stalks off.

Deciding that they might as well finish shopping before someone shows up to kick them out, Rey starts picking up all the groceries that fell to the floor during the crash. “Should we be worried about him?” she asks.

“No,” Ben says. “He’s been saying that I’ll regret that since boarding school.” He hands her the box of hummus; she puts it back in the cart next to the oat milk.

“Mate of yours?” she asks on the way to the register (take 2).

Ben pauses, frowning a little. “I’ve known him since I was a teenager, he was responsible for some of the more humiliating moments of my life, and he still sends me self-help books for sociopaths every year on my birthday.”

“So, more like a best friend, then?”

“Yes.”

Rey sees someone in a uniform approaching them; she pushes the cart a little faster and directs them to the self-checkout, where they proceed to swipe all the items as quickly as possible. “Ben?”

“Yes?”

She puts the last can of soybeans (she knew it) in the bag, waits until Ben has swiped his card, and takes his hand. “Run.”

***

The driveway is empty and all the lights are out when they get home, no sign of either of Ben’s parents. Ben takes this in without a comment and simply puts the food away, leaving the items they need for dinner on the counter. He seems…okay, actually. It’s not like Rey was expecting a breakdown over the continuing disappointment of Ben’s parents, but, she was kind of expecting a breakdown over the continuing disappointment of Ben’s parents. Not that she minds. Ben deserves to be okay.

They usually make enough dinner to have plenty of leftovers, so that both Rey and Ben can take them as lunch to work the following day. Today’s no different, but when Rey moves to put the rest of the stir-fry in containers, Ben stops her.

“Leave it.”

“I was just going to put it in the fridge, we can- oh.” She studies him for a second. “For your parents?”

“My mum will get back late,” Ben says. “If she sees that there’s food, she can eat it. If she’s hungry. She won’t check the fridge but if it’s right there she’ll see it.” This is important to him, Rey realises. There might be a story there, or there might not be, but either way, it’s important.

After a moment, she gives a small nod. “We’ll leave it.”

***

Ben does the dishes so that Rey can “get ready for bed”, although she has the sneaking suspicion that this is an excuse for him to be alone for a bit. She doesn’t mind; back when she shared a flat with Finn during college, she’d taking up running just as a way to hear her own thoughts sometimes. It’s a habit that’s stuck even years later and Rey has always suspected that Ben knows this, since he’s never offered to join her on her morning jogs, just like she doesn’t join him on his evening run. So she’ll get into her pyjamas and read for a bit, until Ben is ready to join her.

Rey is fully intending to go straight to the bedroom, except something catches her eye in the upstairs hallway. At first she thinks it must be a framed photo because of the way the light caught on the glass case, but a closer inspection reveals that it’s actually a clumsy drawing. Whatever the intended subject was, it’s nearly unrecognisable, but she thinks she sees some fish and maybe a tree, too. A signature at the bottom identifies the owner as BƎN, which is, frankly, adorable.

There’s two more pictures on the wall, both photographs this time. One is a selfie from before selfies were invented, taken with an actual camera that was turned around, and being accordingly blurry, though not so much that you couldn’t still see its inhabitants. Ben and his mum are standing to both sides of his dad, who must be the one holding the camera. All of them are smiling, and approximately twenty years younger. The background shows a lake, or a sea; a family holiday, perhaps.

The second photograph is of Ben. He’s older in this one, a teenager, in a high school graduation robe and hat. He’s scowling and looking away from the camera, clearly unhappy with having his picture taken. This version of Ben looks much more like the one he is today than the first picture does, but Rey still finds her fingers tracing the frame of that one nonetheless before she enters the bedroom.

Ben joins her maybe an hour later, way too long for anyone to wash the dishes, but he doesn’t offer an explanation and Rey doesn’t ask.

They’ve turned out the lights a few minutes ago but it’s clear neither of them is asleep just yet, so Rey rolls onto her right side so that she’s facing him and says, “Ben, if you want to be alone, you can just tell me. You don’t have to do the dishes or go on runs. I mean, you can, if you want to, but you don’t have to. You can just say the word and I’ll make myself scarce for a bit.”

It’s hard to make out his face in the darkness, but his voice is clear as he says, “Thank you. And – so can you. If you want.”

“Thank you.” She reaches over to squeeze his hand and ends up awkwardly groping his arm instead, which brings the moment to an end. “Should we have a code word?”

“Why would we need a code word?”

“To avoid awkward communication, obviously. Let’s make it, I’m going for some bubble tea.”

“That seems complicated. Codes should be simple.”

“But it needs to be a sentence that would never be said in a normal conversation.”

She still can’t see him, but she _knows_ he’s smiling. “Alright then,” he says. “Bubble tea it is.”

This time, she falls asleep immediately. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited about this chapter! Thanks for reading, guys. I also keep forgetting to say this BUT I'm [Reyloschmeylo](https://reyloschmeylo.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr and I post fanart of my fic sometimes when I remember that my sideblog exists


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, two things: The chapter count has been upped to what it should always have been (five chapters), because I can't count for shit, AND, more excidedly, I have noticed that everyone has been doing this moodboard thing for their fics so I have added one to the first chapter. Go check it out, everyone.

At next morning’s breakfast is when she finally meets Ben’s dad. Rey wakes up before Ben, which almost never happens because she’s an early riser but Ben is the kind of person who gets up at 5 each day every day to work, like a maniac. Today, however, he’s still asleep by the time Rey puts on one of Ben’s gigantic jumpers over her PJs and goes downstairs to see if anyone else is up, too.

They are. Or at least one person is: A white-haired man who’s currently shaking the coffee machine and promising a swift death if it doesn’t cooperate. There’s no question about it – this is Ben’s father.

Rey listens to the cursing for a bit and then says, “Want me to take a look at it?”

“Go on,” Ben’s dad says and steps aside. The coffee machine turns out to be modified with several wires sticking out at the back, which

Ren sympathises with because there’s one like it at the lab, too. Somehow every single engineer that she’s met has this deep-set need to improve on all things electronic in their life. Sometimes it leads to coffee machines that brew really great coffee, sometimes it leads to coffee machines that give you small electric shocks. Sometimes it’s both.

“Your work?” she asks, turning the machine around to see if she can see what’s wrong with it.

“Rewired it myself after the old one broke down,” Ben’s dad says proudly. “Needs a bit of a push sometimes, though.”

“I think mostly it needs a new servo motor,” Rey says. “I could probably install it and make sure your coffee doesn’t taste like motor oil anymore.”

“Rather cocky of you,” Ben’s dad says, but not like he’s questioning her. More like he’s impressed. “Tell you what, you can have a look in my garage later, see if you find anything that fits. Wait- you’re not my kid’s girlfriend, are you?”

“I am, actually.” Rey leaves the coffee maker alone for now and helps herself to some of the cereal that they bought yesterday. It’s when she gets milk out of the fridge that she realises that yesterday’s dinner is still in a pan on the stove, covered with a lid but otherwise untouched. Pressing her lips together, she transfers the food to the fridge and returns to her breakfast.

“He still asleep? I’m Han, by the way.”

“Rey. And yes.”

“Don’t let him catch you talking to me,” Han says and winks. “He’s already mad at me, he doesn’t need to be mad at you, too.”

“Why would he be mad?” Rey asks, sensing that this is bordering on some family drama but also unable to stop herself.

Han laughs awkwardly at the question, the way people laugh when they really, really regret bringing something up. “Forget I said anything.”

“But-“

“Just trust me,” Han says. _Trust me_ , Rey thinks, eating another spoon full of cereal. People only ever say that when there’s reason not to trust them. “I’m off now, got to see a buddy of mine about our turkey. Usually we just order pizza, but Ben’s mum insisted that we do it properly this year. Don’t worry,” he adds, “we’re still getting it all delivered. I’m not sure anyone’s even used this oven since we moved in. No poisoning our guests on my watch.”

“Do you want me to go wake up Ben before you go?” Rey offers. Han laughs like she’s made a joke and throws something in her general direction that she only catches out of instinct. In her hand is now a key.

“That’s for the garage. I’ll be back before noon, and I’ll pick up my wife along the way. Oh, one more thing – if an old hippie with a beard rings the doorbell, let him in.”

“Is this going to be some weird Santa thing? Because I think you’ve got the wrong holiday, mate.”

Han laughs again, and goes without any further explanations. Or explanations, period. That’s fine, though. This is fine. Rey is now alone in the kitchen of a place she’s never been to before, because apparently Leia is still out, or out again, or maybe she doesn’t even live here and it’s all one big ruse, but if some bearded man wants in, it’s now her job to let him. Great. This is just _great_.

It's 8 am now, which for Ben is practically sleeping straight into the afternoon. Rey goes to wake him and finds him already awake and just finished getting dressed, which is more than she has accomplished this morning.

He raises an eyebrow at her as she walks in. “Did you steal my jumper?”

“Did you stay in this room longer than necessary to avoid talking to your parents?” Rey counters. “They’re not here, by the way. Your mum is out and your dad just left, so you’re probably safe to come out now.” She chooses some clothes from her bag and goes to the bathroom, only to realise that Ben has followed her. “Uh. I don’t think the shower is really big enough to-“

“Not that,” Ben says hastily, blushing, because he can fuck her on multiple surfaces all over their flat, but he can’t say sex out loud, because that’s American sex ed classes for you. “I wanted to ask if you want to go for a walk once you’re ready.”

The suggestion surprises her more than it should have. Ben likes going for walks. He likes walks, and hikes, and if he would ever create a Tinder account, he’d put in his bio something like, _I like long walks on the beach_ and it would fool innocent women into believing that he’s actually taking these beach walks at a normal human walking speed and not going so fast that it’s practically Rey’s running tempo.

So yes, Ben likes going for walks. And it’s not like they have anything better to do, no Thanksgiving lunch to prepare, no family members to make small talk with. So far this whole visit is going much smoother than Rey expected, if only because Ben’s family keeps leaving the house.

“Let’s do it,” she says. “I’m keeping your jumper, though. Just as a thumbs up.”

Ben evidently tries to scowl, an art he’s normally mastered. Not when it comes to Rey, though, so it really turns out to be the barest hint of a smile instead when she closes the door in his face.

***

The neighbourhood Ben grew up is basically every American movie cliché ever. They run into a lot of mainly white families, a lot of them with dogs, even more pushing trolleys, out for a walk on everyone’s favourite national holiday. Some of the older people nod at Ben; he nods back every time but never stops to have a chat.

“Who was that?” Rey asks after the fourth or fifth time this happens, pointing at the old lady they just walked past.

“Neighbour,” Ben says. “Lives down the road.”

“Old babysitter or something?”

“I’ve never spoken to her,” Ben says, startling her. “I don’t even know her name. But – it’s weird. I saw her every day when I was a kid, because I’d have to walk right past her house to get to school. She’d be out gardening, or having tea on the porch, and I saw her at least once a day. A complete stranger, and some weeks I saw her more often than I saw my own parents.”

Rey tries to remember their neighbours back in their apartment building, and finds that she can’t recall a single face. “Should we make more of an effort to befriend our neighbours?”

Ben glances at her and laughs, and then he presses a kiss to the closest part of her he can reach without bending down properly, which means it lands somewhere on her hair. “Our neighbours hate us,” he says.

“No they don’t,” Rey says automatically. “How would you even know? You don’t talk to them. Wait, _do_ you talk to them?”

Ben mumbles something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“We’ve gotten three noise complaints, and one of them saw you smuggling in Puddles last month when Poe made you cat-sit. He threatened to call the landlord, but I was able to convince him not to.”

“Made _us_ cat-sit,” Rey corrects, before the whole thing catches up with her. “ _What_? How long were you going to keep this a secret?” Ben says nothing, which Rey interprets as, _As long as possible_. “Unbelievable.”

“Are you angry?” Ben asks. The question gives Rey pause. She’s not _happy_ with this, but after two years, this is just about a normal day for them. And Ben has never asked if she’s angry before, not after what is mostly light-hearted banter, not in that apprehensive tone of voice.

“No,” she says truthfully. “I’m never angry with you. I mean, I’m _angry_ with you, like when we go out for dinner but then you only order a salad, or when you do this passive-aggressive thing where you collect all my shoes from the floor and put them in a row by the door while giving me that look, or when you let me think your parents are dead and not just living, like, three hours away. But that’s normal, everyday stuff. I’m not really angry. You know that, right?”

“I needed to hear it,” Ben says, and this time when he kisses her, it’s on her cheek. They cross the street and end up on playground that’s mostly deserted. Rey sits down on one of the swings and, after a small hesitation, Ben follows her.

“While we’re at it though,” Rey says, the tip of her boot drawing lines into the grass below, “and while you’re still feeling guilty, let me just confess really quick that Poe didn’t really need a cat sitter for the weekend. I told him I wanted to borrow Puddles to see if we’re pet people, to present a stronger argument when I try to convince you to get a cat. So all the scratch marks on your favourite chair are, technically, my fault.”

“You-“

Rey holds up a finger and says, “Neighbour,” which stops Ben in his tracks. This is going to make an excellent argument for the next couple of weeks.

***

Back at the house, Rey remembers the coffee maker. The key for the garage is still in her jeans pocket, and there should still be plenty of time to go and see if she can find what she needs for the repair. She divulges this plan to Ben, whose eyes dart from her to the key in her hand and then back to her.

“My dad gave you this?”

“Yeah, while you were pretending to be asleep. Wanna come along?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says carefully. Rey doesn’t disagree per se, because it’s not like Ben would be of much help anyway, and there’s a hundred things more interesting than watching someone else go through trash for an hour. But there’s something in the slow, deliberating way that he said this that makes her ask, “Why not?”

“I’ve never been allowed in the garage.”

“What?”

“My dad wasn’t home a lot,” Ben says, tongue darting over his lips in what Rey has learned to recognise as one of his nervous gestures. “But when he was, he’d spend whole days holed up in that garage, tinkering with stuff. And – this wasn’t my big childhood dream or something, I didn’t have a childhood trauma over being told to stay out, but. I guess it would have been nice to be asked. Just once.”

There isn’t really anything to make this better. Rey can’t go back into the past and _make Han allow his son into the garage, what the hell_ , and even if she could, she doubts Ben would want her to. They’ve both got their demons, things that keep them up at night, but sometimes the only way is to go forward.

There isn’t anything to make this better, but there _is_ something she can do.

She takes his hand, and closes his fingers around the key. “Come on,” she says. “If we hurry up, we’ll get this done before lunch. Let’s give you your first engineering lesson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ! I'd love to hear what you thought. Coming up - Thanksgiving dinner.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite being in the US long enough to apply for permanent citizenship, Rey has never actually had a proper Thanksgiving. Her first year in America, which was also her first year as a postgrad student at Columbia, was spent alone in her dorm studying while practically every other person had been gone. By her second year she’d befriended Finn and Rose, so that Thanksgiving had been spent at Finn’s place with all three of them getting roaringly drunk. 

Year three had been the first one post-college, but they had still made a point of meeting up for the holidays. Rose had brought her sister and Finn had brought Poe, and they’d ordered Chinese food and drank a lot of wine, and nothing about it felt very holiday-like. 

In year four, Finn and Poe had gone to Poe’s parents, and Rose and her sister had taken a road trip, and Rey had gotten invited to both trips and declined. That’s when she had first seen Ben, actually, although he hadn’t seen her at the time: It’d been already pretty late in the evening and Rey, who still forgets every year that the fourth Thursday in November is actually like, a thing in the States, had naturally forgotten to go grocery shopping. Her food delivery app had given her the grim message that it would take at least two hours for any meal to arrive, and because Rey can do many things but she’s not going to starve herself, she had done the next sensible thing – going to McDonalds. 

The restaurant had been mostly empty, and Rey, her stomach rumbling, had spent ages in line because this one really tall guy in the front had clearly never been to McDonalds before in his life, and held everything up by asking things like, _Is the meat from a local butcher_. Rey had been annoyed, just like everyone else, but when the guy finally left, distributing the greasy paper bag in an organic cotton bag as he walked past her, Rey had caught herself thinking that he was the only one here tonight who looked as lonely as she felt. 

Her fifth Thanksgiving in America had been with Ben. Ben, the weird guy from McDonalds; Ben, the unlikely friend Poe had brought to dinner one day; Ben, the man she’d first fallen in bed and later in love with after weeks of evenings and nights that eventually turned into mornings. 

Ben, who had asked about her Thanksgiving plans and took her to a shooting range when she said there were none. 

In year six there was no discussion about it, because both of them assumed they would spend it together. They did spend it together – in the hospital, mostly, after Rey sprained her wrist. Still, though, it’d been nice. Ben had brought her coffee and snacks from the vending machine, and he’d shouted at three different people until someone finally came to treat her. 

And here she is now, in the seventh year of her life in America, about to take part in what is basically a green card entry level requirement at this point: having Thanksgiving dinner with an American family, eating turkey, and saying thanks. Possibly there will also be boardgames involved at some point; at least, that’s what they always do on TV. Rey is ready for anything. Rey can do this. 

Before Rey can do anything, however, she has to stand in the kitchen with Ben and watch Ben’s parents try and fail to prepare a meal that is, for all intents and purposes, already prepared. They really just need to make instant mashed potatoes and instant gravy and put the turkey in the microwave once the rest is done to make sure it’s all got the same temperature. Nothing about this is hard, and yet Han and Leia are having a whisper-fight about whether they should use boiling water or heat it up in the pot. 

Rey has offered to help. Ben has offered to help. They’ve offered to help several times, and were rebuked each time. 

“This isn’t hard,” Rey mutters to Ben as they’re leaning against the counter, watching the disaster unfold and unable to look away. “This really, really isn’t hard.” 

“I know,” Ben replies just as quietly. 

“No, but seriously, how-“ 

The doorbell rings. Rey, desperate to get out, offers to answer it and leaves before anyone can protest, Ben right behind her. “Jesus,” Rey says as soon as they’re out of earshot. “That was just painful. I’m surprised you learned how to cook.” 

“I like not getting scurvy,” Ben says just as Rey opens the door. 

And is faced with an old hippie with a beard. 

Rey, as instructed, moves aside to let him in, unsure of what to say here. Ben doesn’t move aside. Ben keeps blocking the doorway, his broad shoulders ensuring that any blocking is more effective than any attempt on Rey’s part to do the same could ever be, and his tone is more hostile than anything Rey has ever heard from him as he says, “Luke. What are you doing here.” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” the guy says. He’s about Rey’s height, which makes him much shorter than Ben, but he still gives off an odd impression of towering over them both, anyway. “When’s the last time you were home?” 

“Go to hell,” Ben says, and marches back inside. Rey is torn – on the one hand, Ben is clearly upset about this course of events. On the other hand, Han specifically told her to let this guy (Luke?) in. 

Some of this conflict must show on her face, because Luke, who’s still standing patiently on the porch, now says, “There’s no need to look so worried. I’m his uncle, not some crazy axe murderer.” 

“You could be both,” Rey says. 

Luke holds up his hands and says, “No axes. Can I come in? We better order that pizza soon, I’m starving.”   
Rey decides that if Ben wants this guy out, he can take it up with his parents. Having no family has one advantage, which is No Family Drama, and she’s not about to get pulled into this one. 

She nods. “Go on. We’re not ordering pizza, though.” 

“Chinese?” 

At that precise moment a crash comes from the kitchen, closely followed by the smoke alarm going off. If Luke does turn out to be a murderous psychopath, at least Rey will always cherish the moment of the expression of absolute dread in his eyes once he realised their dinner plans.

***

_Two minutes in_

Around the dining room table are five chairs. Leia takes the head, Han takes the seat to her right side, and while Ben is still making up his mind on which seat will grant him the least interaction with his family possible, Luke sits down on Leia’s other side. This leaves Ben with two options: Next to his uncle, or next to his dad, which should really be no choice at all, except that his eyes dart nervously to her, as though he doesn’t want her to sit next to his dad or uncle either. 

Rey, who finds herself in a sudden, desperate need for wine (so much wine), rolls her eyes at Ben and sits down next to Luke. The whole thing reminds her painfully of when they spend twenty minutes in the vegetable aisle because Ben can’t decide which eggplant is best suited to his chicken pea salad. Ben hates eggplants.

_Five minutes in_

With everyone seated at last in an odd rendition of Musical Chairs, Leia thanks them all for being there, to which everyone responds in varying mutters, and then looks meaningfully at Han. This is when Rey realises that Leia wasn’t just being polite, but that they’re all going to list things they’re thankful for now. 

Han takes a sip of beer (where did he get beer? Why doesn’t Rey have beer?) and says, “I’m thankful that Lando and I managed to get back in time last night despite the engine trouble. Would’ve been a real shame to miss this.” 

“Engine trouble?” Leia asks sharply. “What engine trouble? You didn’t mention any engine trouble when you called me to say that there’d been a delay. You said it was the weather.” 

“It was both,” Han says and tries to sort of pat Leia’s hand a little. Leia pulls her hand away. 

To defuse the situation, Rey says, “I’m thankful that Ben decided to go to McDonalds three years ago.” 

Usually Ben acts annoyed about the McDonalds thing to hide his embarrassment that it happened in the first place (not his inability to understand the inner workings of a popular restaurant chain, no – his own betrayal of his sense of ethics, more like.). Right now, though, something that’s not quite a blush but that’s not _not_ a blush, either, spreads across his cheekbones. He ducks his head a little and says,

“You are?” 

“Of course,” Rey says. It’d been a joke, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Rey would have met Ben anyway through Poe a few weeks later – but would she have talked to him? Would they have bonded over a shared guilt over frequenting a fast food restaurant that’s like, the Devils incarnate? 

Maybe they would have. But Rey doesn’t like those odds. 

“Then I am, too,” Ben says, and it would be a cute moment if his family weren’t also in the room, and if Han didn’t say, “You gotta find your own thing, kid. No cheating.” 

He says it teasingly, almost fond. Ben doesn’t take it that way. Ben snaps, “Well, then I’m thankful that we don’t do this more often, or else we’d run out of things to be thankful for very quickly.” 

Han’s smile fades. “We’re happy that you’re here. How often do you need to hear it?” 

“Would be nice to hear it from you and not just from Mum,” Ben says. “Maybe then I’d actually believe you.” 

“Personally I’ll be _very_ thankful if today goes over without any more pointless arguments,” Luke says loudly, looking meaningfully at Ben. 

“Yeah, well, I think your presence here is entirely pointless, too, so there’s that,” Ben says without missing a beat. 

A moment of silence passes. Then Leia says, “I’ll go get some wine.”

_Fifteen minutes in_

If pressed to say something nice about the food, Rey would assign it the attribute Interesting. Which is true. One could argue that it’s very interesting indeed how two people managed to make instant mashed potatoes that are both gooey and have little clumps of powder in them, from where they weren’t stirred properly. Interesting is also what one might call the microwaved turkey that should technically be okay since it wasn’t prepared under this roof, but that was clearly prepared by someone with an equally strong affinity for cooking as Han and Leia have. 

If pressed to express her real opinion on the food, Rey would admit that it’s really gross. 

Literally the only edible thing is the gravy, which isn’t going to win any prizes either, but at least it’s okay. It’s a very okay gravy. 

The conversation currently revolves around birds. So far it’s been the one topic that didn’t immediately spark a disagreement. Apparently the combined Organa-Solo-Skywalker family generally agrees that sparrows are cute and hawks are magnificent. 

Rey pokes the dry piece of turkey with a fork and asks Luke, “Would you mind passing the gravy?” 

The reason she asks Luke is that the gravy dish is situated between him and Leia, and Leia is too far away to reasonably pass it to Rey and also right in the middle of talking about this owl she saw the other day, a story that only works because no one wants an argument. 

Luke starts to reach for it. At the same time Ben leans across the entire table, knocks over his dad’s glass, and snatches the dish away from Luke. 

“Here,” he says, thrusting it out to Rey so roughly that some of it spills onto the tablecloth. 

Rey kicks him under the table.

_Forty minutes in_

It’s taken less than an hour for Rey to gain a staggering insight into how family meetings work. From what she can tell, it involves a lot of wine, a lot of decades-old arguments and a lot of hastily-thought out small talk topics to shut down aforementioned arguments before they can take root. 

It is for that reason that a kind of dreading silence takes over once Han announces, “We’re out of wine.” 

General shock, except from Ben, who only drinks craft beer and thinks all wine tastes the same (“gross”). He takes a very slow, deliberate sip of his water while everyone contemplates this. 

Glancing at his wife, Han says, “I do have some brandy that I could-“ 

“No.” 

Rey supposes that now she has the unique opportunity to find out how family meetings work _when sobe_ r.

_Seventy minutes in_

They’re done. They have reached that point where all the food has been devoured, including the store-bought pumpkin pie, the wine ran out half an hour ago, and even the conversation seems to have exhausted itself. Han has made three comments about how late it’s getting, and even Leia keeps glancing at the clock. Any minute now, Rey thinks, they’re going to clear the table and call it a day. 

She checks her phone under the table; there’s a new message from Finn that simply reads, Happy Thanksgiving. He’s attached a selfie of himself and Poe. Rey doesn’t reply yet; she’ll force Ben to take a selfie with her later. 

Apparently Luke caught her in the act, for when she puts the phone back in the pocket of her cardigan, he says, “Those your friends? They look nice.” 

“Yes,” Rey says. “They are. Poe is actually the one who introduced me and Ben.”

“Which one is Poe?” Luke asks, and Rey pulls up the photo again to show him, glad to have an excuse not to listen to the conversation going on at the other side of the table (hunting for a neutral topic, they have now settled on Tom Hanks movies). 

“This is Finn,” Rey says, tapping one fingernail to Finn’s grinning face. “We met in college. Our friend Rose moved out of the city to get her PhD, but Finn and I both stayed. He introduced me to Poe, and Poe introduced me to Ben.” 

“He did? Are they colleagues?” 

“No, I think they were roommates in college or something. They graduated a couple of years before we met, so I don’t really know. I guess they just stayed friends.” 

“Oh,” Luke says, surprise evident in his voice. 

Perhaps this would have been that. Perhaps Luke would have been quietly surprised and then neither of them would have given it any more thought. 

If Han, Leia and Ben hadn’t just finished with exchanging agreement over how Forrest Gump is amazing but Green Mile is better. If Ben hadn’t overheard the last part of Rey’s chat with Luke. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks now. “Didn’t expect me to have friends, Uncle Luke?” 

“Careful, Ben,” Luke says. “You don’t want to ruin a perfectly nice dinner for the rest of us, do you?” Rey is still busy marvelling over the fact that Luke must have attended an entirely different dinner than the one she just took part in, but Ben doesn’t hesitate. 

“Like I ruined all the other nice dinners, you mean? That’s what I do, right? I ruin dinners, I ruin my friendships, I ruined my parents’ marriage – isn’t that what you said?” 

From the corner of her eye, Rey can see Leia and Han freeze. “I don’t know what you think you heard,” Luke says sharply, “but you must hear how delusional that sounds.” 

“No, you’re right. Let’s get the facts straight. What was the exact wording? Oh, that’s right _– having a baby this young is rarely a good decision, but having a baby to fix a marriage never works_? Go on. Tell me I’m delusional.” 

Silence. Somewhere in the house, the clock strikes six. 

“This anger, this ridiculous grudge-holding, all of this – if you were wondering why anyone could be surprised you have friends, this is why. You’re acting like you have some sort of moral high ground, but you didn’t come home in ten years. You didn’t call your mother for the first five. Did you know that Han had a heart attack? No, of course you didn’t. Your parents are lucky if you call on Christmas.” 

Ben whirls on his father. “You had a heart attack?” 

“Last year,” Han says awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s all fine.” 

“When were you going to tell me this?” Ben demands, eyes darting between Leia and Han. “When he died? Were you even going to invite me to his funeral? Or would you have mentioned it in your next birthday card, Happy Birthday, PS, Dad’s dead?” 

“Stop it,” Leia says at the same time that Han says, “Don’t talk to your mother like that.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t talk at all, if it bothers you so much. It’s not like you were ever interested in what I had to say, anyway.” 

“That’s not true and you know it,” Han snaps. 

“Isn’t it? Did you ever ask me how I was doing in school? Even once? Did you ask me about which sports I played, which books I read, which girls I liked? In fact, can you name a single thing about me as a kid? What was I like? What was my favourite movie? Was I a boy scout? Anything, Dad? Anything at all?” 

“We made mistakes,” Leia cuts in before Han can say anything. “All parents do. All _people_ do.” 

“Was I a mistake?” Ben asks. “And don’t tell me how much you loved me once I was born. Just answer the question. Would your marriage have worked if I hadn’t been born?” 

“There is no answer,” Leia says. “You’re asking us to make a statement about an alternate reality that doesn’t exist. You were born. That’s it.” 

“But if I hadn’t been. If you hadn’t been pregnant with me. Would you have separated the first time? The second time?” 

“We had a hundred reasons for getting separated,” Leia says, her own voice rising to match Ben’s. “Stop acting like a child.” 

“Answer the question,” Ben repeats loudly. “If you hadn’t become pregnant at 22, would you have left Dad?” 

“No! No, I wouldn’t have! Not the first time. Alright? Are you happy now?” 

Both Ben and Leia have risen from their chairs during the fight. No one says anything for a moment. Then Ben says, “I’m going for some fucking bubble tea,” and walks out. 

Another moment of silence until Leia says, very quietly, “Han, you can bring out the brandy now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done, you guys !! This to me was the most difficult chapter to write, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Enjoy.

Rey clears the table. 

Luke has gone home, Han has gotten into a car and driven off to god-knows-where, Leia is outside smoking her way through a packet of cigarettes, and she still doesn’t know where Ben is. So she clears the table, and washes the dishes, and when all of this is done, she goes into the garage to sit propped up against an old car that’s in the middle of either restauration or being taken apart. 

This is where Leia finds her an undeterminable amount of time later. She’s brought two cups of tea and hands one to Rey, joining her on the floor. She looks tired, Rey thinks. 

“This is where I always used to find him after fights,” Leia says into the silence. 

“Han?” 

“Ben.” 

Rey frowns. “I thought he wasn’t allowed in here.” 

“He wasn’t. But his dad wasn’t home much – we both weren’t –, so who was going to notice? I don’t think Han ever realised that Ben came in here all the time.” 

“But you knew,” Rey says, slowly blowing on her tea. 

“I knew,” Leia says. 

They don’t say anything else.

***

It occurs to Rey, just as she’s getting ready for bed, that she never replied to Finn’s message. She imagines him now, Finn and Poe, and Rose, too, and herself, the four of them, spending Thanksgiving together before this whole mess started. 

Though that’s not quite accurate – Poe came later, invited by Finn, the same year that Rose invited her sister. It’d been nice, having more people with them. It’d been nice with just Finn and Rose, too, but Rey doesn’t regret that others came along later. She doesn’t regret that Ben came along. 

She has a lot of regrets in her life. Ben’s never been one of them, and he isn’t today. She has to remember that. 

Rey tries reading but doesn’t get very far. Her thoughts keep drifting tonight and, eventually, she falls asleep. 

She wakes to Ben braiding her hair. It’s just one of the things he sometimes does, just another of his inexplicably weird habits. Sometimes he goes for runs in the middle of the night, sometimes he eats a whole onion like an apple, sometimes he braids her hair. Rey, who’s never bothered to learn how to braid and never had a parent who bothered to show her, secretly likes this, likes how gently he touches her hair, likes how he’ll first brush it with his fingers and then weave it into increasingly intricate braids. 

She tilts her head to show that she’s awake. Ben must notice, but doesn’t comment as he continues in his self-imposed task. 

“You never told me where you learned how to do that,” she says finally. 

“My grandmother,” Ben says. His grip on her hair tightens for a moment and Rey has to bite her lip to not make a pained sound. “Sorry.” 

“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Rey says after a moment. “If you never want to speak to your family again, that’s your business. We can pack our bags and drive home right now, and I won’t judge you for it. But. I’ve spent almost my entire childhood in foster care. Personally, I’d just be happy to have a family to fight with.” 

Ben finishes the last braid and fixes it with a pin. “You look beautiful.” 

“Of course you think I’m beautiful, you just spent thirty minutes doing my hair,” Rey jokes, finally sitting up so she can properly look at Ben. 

“I always think you’re beautiful,” Ben says absently, distracted from the small _pling_ his phone just made. He unlocks it, frowns, and starts typing, and meanwhile Rey’s still stuck at the part where he complimented her so casually, like it’s not a big thing at all, like it’s obvious and everyone should see it. And the thing is that Rey isn’t self-conscious, she’s really not, but it’s one thing to get an intended compliment and write it off, and another to hear someone state it as a fact. 

“Finn texted me,” Ben is saying, unaware of Rey’s inner crisis. “He wants to know if you’re still alive. What should I tell him?” 

“Tell him I got eaten by a bear,” Rey says and digs her chin into Ben’s shoulder so that she can read what he’s writing. 

_Rey is fine and says Hi_

“That is not what I said,” says Rey, watching Ben press _send_. 

“No, but if it was me whose messages you ignored for a day, I would worry. So I’m not letting Finn worry, too.” 

“Sometimes,” Rey says, “you can be really, disgustingly nice, and it’s the worst. _You’re_ the worst.” She punctuates her words with a kiss, though. Just to make sure Ben knows it was a joke. 

For once, Ben isn’t eager to return the kiss, and Rey frowns as she pulls away. “Everything alright?” 

“They changed the wallpaper,” he says. 

“What?” 

“My parents. They repainted the house, or probably they had someone else repaint the house, and the downstairs hallway used to be this really ghastly yellow, I don’t even know why. And I used to complain about it all the time, back when we were still- and then I left, and I never came back, and it’s not like they ever said anything, but that’s the first thing I noticed when we arrived here. They changed the fucking wallpaper and I didn’t even know. And I just kept thinking – why didn’t I know? How could I not know such a basic thing? How could I not know that my dad- that my dad had-“ Hi voice wavers, breaks, and suddenly he’s crying, and Rey feels a little like crying, too, as she hugs him, and first he doesn’t respond but then he wraps his arms around her, and they just sit like that for a while. 

“I’m going to talk to them,” Ben says at last. He still sounds shaken, but he also seems calmer. Steadier. “My dad has taken off and I don’t want to talk to Luke again until the day I die, but I’m going to talk to my mum. I think- I think that for a very long time, we both stopped trying. Perhaps it’s time we gave it one more shot.” 

“Talk to her,” Rey says. “I’ll wait.” She will. For as long as it takes. 

Ben nods and stands, and at that moment, someone knocks and enters. 

“Ben,” Leia says. “I think we should talk.”

***

Epilogue: Christmas

“-and Poe said to tell you to wear that Christmas jumper he gave you – he gave you a Christmas jumper? – because black is, quote, ‘depressing’, and Rose wants to know if you can send her your banana bread recipe, and Finn, okay, I’m not reading this out loud, but your mum also texted to say that they’re running late. I think that’s all,” Rey says, already halfway through replying to them all. “Please never drop your phone right before Christmas again. I feel like your secretary.” 

“I said I was sorry,” Ben says, sounding so indignant about it that Rey believes him. Not that she didn’t believe him before. There has quite possibly never been someone in the history of mankind who has ever been as sorry as Ben was when he broke his phone and realised two things: a. there was no way he was going to buy a new one before the holidays, and b. this meant that he would have to give Rey his parents’ contact info. 

“What does running late mean?” Ben now demands. He pushes an unruly strand of hair away from his forehead and gets flour all over it; they had been in the middle of making cookies when all the power went out, a district-wide blackout due to the snowstorm raging outside.

Now they’re just sitting in the dark kitchen, the only candle in their whole apartment almost burned down, hoping that the lights will turn back on before Han and Leia get here. 

“Running late means that they won’t be here on time,” Rey says and eats one of the cut out, but as of yet unbaked, cookies on the baking tray in front of her. “Look, maybe that’s for the best. We don’t know how long this power-cut will last, and I don’t want your parents’ first impression of this place to be that we live in a dump.” 

“We do live in a dump,” Ben says, lightly slapping her wrist where she’d been reaching for another cookie. “Don’t eat that.” 

“There is no raw egg in these,” Rey protests. “I don’t know what you’re worried about. The risk of me getting food poisoning and leaving you to deal with this visit on your own is practically non-existent.” 

“You won’t get food poisoning, but you will ruin what was supposed to show my parents that we’re functional adults who do things like baking Christmas cookies.” 

Ben’s right, that has indeed been the plan. Personally Rey thinks neither of Ben’s parents is in a position to judge them about anything, and either way she’s never met anyone in their twenties who has their life together as well as Ben, but if her boyfriend wants to impress Han and Leia with seasonal activities, then who’s she to protest? 

It’s dark, but it’s not dark enough not to see what Ben is wearing. “Didn’t you hear what Poe said? You should change.” 

“You just want my sweater,” Ben says, but obediently strips it off and throws it to Rey before emerging a few seconds later with a Christmas jumper (you can tell it’s Christmas-themed from the reindeer with the Santa hat). “I don’t get why you want it, anyway. It’s too big.” Way, _way_ too big, Ben is not wrong about that. 

Rey shrugs, faintly embarrassed. She’s never examined why she likes wearing Ben’s clothes, and she isn’t starting today. Luckily, an incoming text saves her from having to answer. 

“Leia says that they’re ten minutes away,” she reads out loud. She doesn’t have to look over to know that Ben has tensed up. “She loves you.” 

“Did she text you that?” Ben asks, voice tight. 

“No. I’m translating.” 

“Oh.” 

“Hey,” she says, and abandons the idea of eating more raw cookie dough in favour of standing up and touching his cheek. Even standing on her tiptoes she can’t quite reach him enough to kiss him, but he moves instinctively, first planting a kiss on her lips and then another one on her fingers which are still cupping his face, like he can’t help it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to simply kiss the part of her that is closest to him. 

“This isn’t like last time,” Rey says firmly. “For one, you’ve been talking on the phone for this past month.” 

“You mean we’ve been rebuilding our relationship enough to have less things to fight over?” Ben sounds doubtful. 

“No. I mean that you’ve fought so much over the phone that there’s no longer as much need to do it in person.” Rey is only half-joking. She’s convinced that these phone calls will only help Ben and Leia’s relationship in the long term – after all, they _are_ coming to spend Christmas Eve with them – but God, the fighting. So. Much. Fighting. 

“You’re hilarious,” Ben says. He’d been starting to smile, but his face falls again as another thought seemingly occurs to him. “What if it doesn’t go well, though? What if- what if there’s been no progress? I can’t go through this again.” 

He can’t, and neither can Rey – nor, she suspects, can Ben’s parents. That’s why she’s certain about her answer. “If it doesn’t go well for any reason at all,” she says, “I say, screw them. We’ll ditch them and book plane tickets to New Mexico.” 

“New Mexico?” 

“I’ve read that Santa Fe has the best bubble tea shop in the world,” Rey says, and she’s still laughing by the time the doorbell rings.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes my second fic for this fandom, and I have to say that I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. Tell me what you think!


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